Of Two Minds
by Tirajm
Summary: Artemis attempts an experimental solution to his Atlantis Complex. Results are mixed.
1. Rehabilitation

**Rehabilitation**

Overall, Artemis thought, his recovery could be going better. Some of the problems had been overcome without much difficulty. The paranoia, for one thing - he no longer feared that Butler was plotting to betray him. And while he still wasn't completely comfortable around fours, he had at least stopped counting the words in his sentences. But very little progress at all had been made on the main issue: Orion.

The magic purge had been what set it off. They had wanted No. 1 to do it immediately, hopefully before his mother had arrived. While the plan had been to gently remove any residual traces of magic, instead of a quick cleansing, it had resulted in Artemis screaming as though No. 1 was instead trying to make his brain explode, until the human boy eventually had to be sedated. That was not the end of his embarrassment, either. Artemis had gone under, and Orion had come to. And Holly had been in the room at the time.

"My princess!" he had exclaimed, upon regaining consciousness. "Have you come to watch over me as I recover? Such admirable devotion!" And before Holly could speak, he planted a quick kiss on her lips.

Artemis had returned to consciousness a quarter of an hour later, with a small red welt on his cheek approximately the size and shape of an elvish fist. Holly's face was red; she looked a little embarrassed, but mostly angry.

"Sorry, Artemis," she said, not sounding particularly sorry. "It was Orion. He _really_ was asking for it.

"I am sure he was," Artemis replied. "I am aware of what goes on when I'm not in control, you know." A comment about elf-kissing darted into his head, and, with one look at Holly's poor temper, vanished instantly. _Curse that fool Orion,_ he thought. _His antics are getting exceptionably irritating._

He was in an even worse mood when he discovered _somebody_ had posted a video clip of them kissing on .

And now, Artemis was having a session with Dr. Argon. It was not a normal session - No. 1 was sitting in, as they were supposed to be going over the failure of the magical purge. Artemis, however, had another topic in mind.

"Something must be done about Orion," he insisted. "He is a threat to my mental health, and there is no way I can make a proper recovery from my... other issues... when an alter ego is floating around my brain and undoing the progress I make."

"Of course, Master Fowl," Dr. Argon said patiently. "I've planned out some mental exercises and hypnosis sessions to help integrate your personalities."

Artemis was appalled. "Doctor, I do not wish to integrate with Orion. I wish to have him removed."

"What you wish isn't the issue at hand. Orion represents all your repressed emotions, all the feelings you refuse to let yourself express. You need to embrace him, not reject him, or else you will never make a full recovery."

Artemis resisted an urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, Dr. Argon was little better than the quacks at St. Bartleby's. "Please, doctor. I am familiar with the theories on split personalities. In fact, I published an article on Dissociative Identity Disorder. I was hoping that there might be some other way to separate us. Perhaps a magical way." He looked directly at No. 1.

"Oh, gee," said the little demon, "I'm not sure about that one. Warlocks don't really study all that much psychology. And it's not like we could split your two halves into different bodies somehow. We haven't got a transporter." No. 1 had recently developed a fondness for Star Trek.

"Perhaps a repurposing, then? Some sort of technique for transfer of consciousness?"

"Hmm... What about a golem?"

"An animated clay statue? I fail to see how that would be relevant."

"Well, that's one type of golem. But, sometimes warlocks would control them by going into a trance, and sort of moving their mind over to the golem. I was thinking maybe if you did something like that..."

"... Then Orion could take control of the golem, while I have my body to myself?" Artemis replied hopefully.

"Not quite. Golem spells don't last that long - just for a week or two. But I bet we could speed-grow you a clone, and maybe it'd work for a short-term solution, while you work on that number thing."

"Not exactly what I was looking for," responded Artemis, but Dr. Argon cut in quickly, as though he was desperate to be part of the conversation.

"I think it's a brilliant plan!" the psychologist exclaimed. 'It'll really give you a good chance to talk to each other, hash out your differences. Who knows," he added, smiling falsely, "the two of you might reach a new understanding."

_I sincerely doubt that,_ thought Artemis, but he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he nodded, and tried to look enthusiastic. After all, this was his only chance to get some time to himself.


	2. Relocation

**Relocation**

The next two weeks were more than enough to convince Artemis that any sort of out available was necessary. Orion's presence grew more and more inescapable – it got to the point where he would resurface after Artemis had been taking a nap. He garnered another punch from Holly, for proposing this time, a great deal of confusion from Angeline, who he insisted on calling Mummy, and countless blackmail videos for Foaly. When Dr. Argon suggested that he might be developing a _third_ alternate personality, Artemis nearly screamed. _I will do anything to get rid of Orion_, he vowed, _even if it is only temporary._ But at last, the clone was finished, and the process of turning it into a golem nearly so. All that was left was the ritual that would allow someone else to take control of it.

Artemis was decidedly surprised when he saw it. It looked more like a mannequin than a person, perfectly still, its skin unmarred with freckles or moles. Its hair was tied in a ponytail that reached down to the middle of its back, never having been cut, and there were runes tattooed on its hands and bare chest. It sat in the lotus position, glassy eyes not-looking at him. Like a mannequin, or a corpse. "Both eyes are blue," he remarked aloud.

"Well," said Foaly, who was overseeing the procedure, "we _could_ have grown an eye to match Holly's and done a transplant, but I thought it was unnecessary and overly sentimental. If it's too much for your poor, lovestruck heart to bear, I'll get you a contact lens."

Artemis affixed the centaur with a particularly dour look, and rubbed the latest bruise Orion had earned him. Holly had refused to heal him, and everyone else thought it was too funny to help him. "A pity Orion will not be able keep the tokens of affection he has won. At least I won't be getting any more."

"Ah, well…" said No. 1 nervously. "That's not exactly how it's going to work. It takes a lot of mental control to run a golem, see, and I'm not sure Orion is up to the task exactly."

"Then what are we doing with the clone?" asked Artemis, who already knew the answer.

"We're going to have to put you in it."

"Must you?"

"Unless you think Orion can handle a major magical ritual, pretty much."

Artemis gave the clone another look, eyes lingering on the ponytail and tattoos. Foaly whinnied. "If you're that worried about the hair, you can get it cut afterwards. Now, are we going to get this show on the road, or not? I have a family to get home to, you know."

"Yes, of course. How does the ritual work, exactly? Seeing as how I no longer have any magic, I will not be able to do any spell casting."

"Don't worry. We'll just get you runed up, and then you just hold each others hands and focus really hard." No. 1 paused briefly. "Well, you focus hard. The clone doesn't have any intelligence, so I guess it can't focus on anything. But that's it, really."

It did seem to be so. After No. 1 drew a few more runes on Artemis' chest – in chalk, not ink – the human boy arranged himself in the same position as his doppelganger. A little hesitant, he lifted its hands, intertwining their fingers. It felt not unlike a doll – a giant, unusually heavy doll. The experience was extremely off-putting. "Are you sure this will work?" he asked.

No. 1 didn't seem to notice Artemis' discomfort. "Don't worry. I tested it with Foaly earlier. I could get him to control it without using a drop of magic." Smiling cheerily, he placed a hand on each forehead. Electric blue began to spark from his fingers. "Alright! Now close your eyes, and focus on transferring your soul to the golem!" he said.

It was harder than it looked. Artemis tried to forget about the new additions that would undoubtedly turn up on and push his self across the barrier of his double's flesh, envisioning the sparks as conductors for his consciousness. But it felt as though he was anchored to his own body. Frustrated, he stopped pushing.

The relaxation seemed to be the necessary response. All of a sudden, he was cut loose, flowing instead of forcing. There was an extremely disconcerting moment where he was seeing his own face, eyes opened wide in surprise, and then, with a rush of blood to his head as the clone's brand-new heart experienced its first rush of adrenaline, he passed out.

It was an extremely enjoyable experience, Artemis decided, coming to without having to worry about someone else getting in your way. He could drift slowly to the surface, instead of rushing to beat Orion. When he finally opened his eyes, his mother was sitting by his bedside.

"Are you alright, Arty?" she asked him nervously. "They were worried when you passed out. Apparently it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

"I'm fine, Mother," Artemis replied, sitting up slowly, and looking at his hands. The tattoos seemed to have vanished. "It's probably just because I'm not used to magic."

Angeline Fowl smiled fondly at her son, gently running her hand through his new, much longer hair. "How do you feel? Do you want ice cream or something?

"I'm _fine_, Mother. Right now, I'm more worried about what Orion is getting up to in my body."

"I think your friend Holly had something she wanted to take care of with him. They should get back here before too much longer."

Artemis groaned. "This is ridiculous. If he's got another black eye, I'm not going back until he's healed."

There was a knock at the door. "Artemis? Mummy? Is it alright to come in?"

"Yes, of course, Orion." Angeline turned to Artemis. "Doesn't he have good manners, Arty? You always open the door right after you knock."

Artemis was too shocked by what he saw when the door opened to answer her. Standing there was Orion, looking almost exactly like the image Artemis generally saw in the mirror. There were only a few differences – a softening of features, a sincerity of expression that the Irish boy usually lacked. Oh, and golden fair hair.

"What did you do to my head?" he croaked at last, aware it did not have quite the elegance he usually aimed for.

"I thought it looked rather good," replied Orion, sounding hurt. "It represents the dichotomy of our souls – you are the darkness, and I the light."

"Am I always this melodramatic?" Artemis wondered aloud.

"Yes," said Holly, appearing suddenly from behind Orion. "Don't blame him – it was my idea. We need some way to keep track of the two of you, mostly because he's trustworthy, and you're not. Foaly wanted to spray you with a tracker, but I figured you'd find some way around it. Hair dye is nice and simple, and you can dye it back to normal once this whole mess is over."

"I think it looks nice, dear," Angeline said, smiling. "And are you feeling alright, Orion? You are borrowing my son's body, after all." Suddenly her smile seemed less friendly.

"Yes, I'm very well, Mummy," Orion replied blithely. "Don't worry. I'll take very good care of Artemis' body. Probably better care than he does."

Artemis snorted. "Yes, you've had so much success being me. Just look at how pleased Holly is."

"Ooh, sarcasm," retorted Orion. "That's original."

Artemis pressed a palm against his forehead, mind swarming with a variety of responses relating to both the supposed unoriginality of the sarcasm Orion was employing in his own remark and the equal unoriginality of quoting a musical. He just didn't have the energy to deal with it. He looked over to see Holly snickering. "This is your revenge, isn't it?" he asked her bitterly.

"For going crazy and sticking me with your amorous twin?" She smiled wickedly. "Yes. Yes it is."


	3. Reorientation

**Reorientation**

Artemis found himself carted off to another session with Dr. Argon as soon as it was ascertained that he could sit up in bed. He and Orion were seated on the same couch, making an interesting contrast – Orion smiling cheerfully, mismatched eyes bright and alert; Artemis brooding sarcastically, long dark hair dripping in his face. Artemis' bad mood was not just related to the presence of his doppelganger so much as what could probably be termed a relapse. His glare currently fell on the room's windowpanes. Each window had eight, two fours, and there were two windows. Four fours. Didn't Dr. Argon realize how _dangerous_ that was?

Dr. Argon apparently didn't – he was so excited he was practically dancing. The opportunity to interview two halves of the same psyche at the same time was revolutionary, and the fact that the psyche in question was so unique made it even better. Unfortunately, neither boy was giving him much to work with. Artemis, as usual, refused to give him anything more than blatant sarcasm, and Orion, whose method of response he was less familiar with, did not have any new insight on his situation; in fact, the boy seemed incapable of giving insight on anything. Before long, Dr. Argon was reduced to the old psychiatrist standby, "So, how do you feel?"

"Irritated," replied Artemis smoothly. "I am being forced to sit in a room with two fools while being asked inane questions."

"Please ignore him," Orion said earnestly, "he doesn't mean anything in particular by it. He's such an insufferable boor to everyone. He treats even Holly in a most ungentlemanly manner. He has no respect for her feminine delicacy."

"I, at least, attempt to maintain some modicum of dignity, instead of producing inane prattle ruthlessly pilfered from rubbishy fantasy novels – Did you have to break up the panes like that? Really, you could have done two by five instead. It's so much more aesthetically pleasing."

Dr. Argon scribbled furiously. It was the most he'd gotten out of either of them in the entire session. Artemis' change in subject was not an encouraging sign, nor was the fact that the boy's fingers were tapping out the five times table. He noticed Artemis' eyes watching the pencil move.

"You keep all your patient files on paper?" he asked casually.

"Yes," replied Dr. Argon without thinking. "It makes things so much more secure, don't you think? I can just lock them in a safe, and there's no way you can get in without the combination. It's much more secure than computers – anybody could hack those." Artemis had to agree with those last sentiments, as anybody included him; he had been sorely disappointed to find that the patient records were not included in his score. A smile crossed his lips for the first time since the transfer. Anyone who really knew Artemis Fowl would not trust in the safety of those paper documents for much longer.

The rest of the session consisted of Orion trying to compose bad poetry, while Artemis dissected the rhyme scheme and meter. Dr. Argon copied as much as he could word-for-word anyways. _Maybe,_ he thought desperately, _I could use it to analyze their feelings on personal expression._ It looked a lot more likely that he would end up with a hundred bad rhymes for Holly and a discourse on iambic pentameter.

Artemis returned to his quarters to find a small package from Foaly waiting for him. There was a note attached.

_Mud Boy – _

_I got you your contact lens. Apparently sudden physical changes can exaggerate Atlantis Complex. Who knew? No scissors, sorry. Sharp objects are not recommended for paranoid delusionals. You can get someone else to cut your hair, or learn to live with it. _

_Foaly_

_PS: I did put a tracker spray on you. So don't think you can get away._

"Why so hostile, Foaly?" Artemis wondered aloud. "You aren't plotting something, are you?" He glanced back at the note, re-reading the second sentence, sighed, and went over to the mirror to fumbling with the slippery hazel lens. A few blinks later, and he was partially restored to his normal appearance. It was reassuring, in some strange, nonsensical way. When his eyes had reverted to their base appearance, he had felt as if his personality had regressed somehow as well, which had possibly influenced his regression in terms of the Atlantis Complex, as he subconsciously regained responsibility for the guilt that he had worked to expunge. _And that,_ he thought with some satisfaction, _is more successful psychoanalysis than that quack Argon is likely to ever achieve._

His good mood was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," he said thoughtlessly, instantly wishing he would have added, unless you're Orion. To his relief, it was his mother instead. "Is there something you wished to discuss with me, Mother?"

Angeline looked hurt. "Not particularly. Can't a mother just want to spend time with her boy? And anyways," her eyes narrowed, "I thought I asked you to call me Mum."

"Please, Mother, I'm suffering from a severe mental disorder. Can't I be given a little leeway as to my choice of appellation?" Artemis tried to give her his most pitiful look, which he suspected was not quite on target.

She sighed. "Very well, Arty. If that's how you want to do things, I have been thinking of letting Orion come back home with me for a short visit. I'm sure he'd love to meet your father and the twins. And your little friend, Minerva, of course. Such an obliging boy. I think he'd be willing to dye his hair back, don't you?"

Artemis could feel his cheeks reddening. "You wouldn't, would you, Mother?"

Angeline's smile was as bright and hard as a diamond. "I think you mean, you wouldn't, would you, _Mum_?"

"Of course. _Mum_." Beaten as he was, Artemis couldn't help feeling respectful. Angeline may have married into the family, but she was a born Fowl. "How are Butler and Juliet doing? I haven't seen them recently."

"Well, I think they're both pretty busy with the reconstruction of the city, though apparently Juliet's taking time off to teach a martial arts class for the LEP. Your little hairy friend is working on the reconstruction, too. He's actually rather charming, once you get to know him."

Artemis wondered with a dull shock what kind of conversation Mulch could have possibly had with his mother. "Perhaps Sir Pratchett's observations on the lowest common denominator were correct," he muttered. Aloud, he asked, "Were you really planning on going back to the manor?"

"Just for a short visit. Check up on the twins, pick up a few things. I was planning on seeing if they could spare Butler. Why do you ask?"

"There were just a few things I wanted Butler to pick up," Artemis said, too innocently. His mother _hmm_ed, but didn't say anything, instead running her hand through his hair again. "You keep doing that, Mo - Mum," he said irritably. "Is there something wrong with it?"

She smiled mischievously, shaking her head. "Not at all. It's just… well, I always wanted a daughter, and Juliet never really let me play with her hair. And now yours is so long. I could braid it for you, if you wanted me to." He could feel the gentle tug of her hand separating it into three pieces, the slight pull of them crossing…

Artemis found himself blushing again, and shook his head, his hair slipping out of her grasp. "I am your _male_ son," he replied crossly. "I would appreciate it if you respected my personal space. And possibly trimmed my hair. They won't allow me scissors."

She laughed gently. "Poor Arty. It must be hard on you, not getting all the respect you're used to."

_Not for much longer, though,_ thought Artemis. _If everything goes as planned._


	4. Repetition

**Repetition**

Artemis left another session with Dr. Argon feeling exhausted. Instead of his usual tactic of awkwardly trying to get Artemis interested in a topic, he had run down a list questions ranging from how Artemis felt about his hair ("I don't place particular importance on it. I don't know if you've noticed, doctor, but I'm not a teenaged girl."), to how he felt about his mother ("Really, Dr. Argon? I would have thought that even you were beyond crude Freudian analysis."), without any particular pattern. The one thing he didn't ask about was the one thing that Artemis was worried about – Holly.

Artemis was well aware that Holly wanted to talk to him, and he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he wanted to. They hadn't had a chance before, between therapy and the repair of Atlantis, and Artemis had not wanted to even entertain the idea of how disastrous it would be if Orion happened to intrude on the discussion. On a more pragmatic level, Holly was very canny, and knew him best out of all of the People. If anyone was likely to guess that he was up to something, it was she.

However, it was foolish to think he could avoid her forever, and to be honest, he was curious what it was she wanted to say. He had arranged for them to meet after the session, and – there she was. Waiting in the hallway with a slightly bored expression that vanished into a relieved grin when she saw him.

"Your hair's getting long," he commented. "Is it really practical?"

Holly snorted. "Like you're one to talk, Fowl. Haven't you got it cut yet?"

"Unfortunately not. Moth – Mum says she likes it this way, Butler's too busy, and apparently I'm not stable enough to be given sharp objects."

"Atlantis Complex can be pretty dangerous," she said sharply. "You shouldn't be so flippant about it."

"Please, Holly. Perhaps you don't remember when Turnball attempted to make me strangle Foaly? I'm much more dangerous with a computer than a weapon, and that hasn't stopped me being allowed internet access."

"I don't know about that. Orion's been taking fencing lessons. He's actually not half bad."

"Please tell me this is some elaborate prank."

"Nope, I'm serious. He says he's training himself in the arts of chivalry. He's been using the shooting range, too – he actually beat Grub Kelp's high score. Of course, a ten year old who likes video games could beat Grub's score, but it's something." She sighed. "It's almost endearing, how stupid and lovesick he is. Like a puppy that keeps chewing your shoes and peeing on stuff."

Artemis made a sour face. Stupid and endearing were not words that he had ever wanted to be applied to an aspect of himself. Unless he wanted to continue this extremely uncomfortable topic of discussion, he would have to change to an even more awkward one. "You had said earlier that you wished to talk to me?"

"Yeah," said Holly, sounding as if she'd regretted saying that. "I don't know – It's just, do you really feel that way?"

Artemis laughed. "Holly, I am most definitely not Orion. We are total opposites. If you developed an alter ego that behaved like, say, Corporal Frond, would you care to have her behaviour ascribed to your own personality?"

Holly winced at the very suggestion. Not a picture she needed, though a few movies about her life made it far too easy. "That's not all, though. Orion said that you think about me all the time. That you think highly of me. That he has all your passion, but none of your boorishness."

It was Artemis' turn to wince. "He actually said – I was hoping I was just hallucinating." He shook his head. "It's not me. It's the Atlantis Complex talking."

"Don't give me that troll weevil. We both know things have been awkward between us. Ever since the time travel incident."

"And who's fault is that?" asked Artemis, switching tactics. "Who's the one who made things awkward in the first place? Who was the one who kissed me?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Holly shot back sarcastically, but she couldn't contain her temper much longer. "That's not fair! I was temporally confused, and scared, and high on hormones, and you were hurt and worrying and looked like you were actually old enough to kiss, and then…" She trailed off. "Your eyes…" She stood on tiptoe to get a better look at them. "You've got a hazel one again."

"Contact lens," Artemis said shortly. "It… doesn't help if my appearance changes too much. It presumably affects the obsessive-compulsive aspects." There was an awkward pause, as Artemis was distracted by the intense way she was studying his face.

"Yeah? Just like when we faced off with Spiro. You had one of my eyes even back then." She looked away, and Artemis found it remarkably easier to focus. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… confuse you, or anything. I just didn't think, I guess. Let's… let's just go back to forgetting about it, okay?"

"That won't solve a thing," Artemis warned. "Not for either of us."

Holly's face, when she turned back to look at him again was tight and shut off. "What do you want me to do, Fowl? Magic it better? Kiss you again? I think we both know how that would end."

"I thought you were the one who wanted to talk to me. Captain Short."

"Yeah, well, I guess I forgot who I was dealing with." She rubbed her temple. "D'arvit. We're doing it all over again, aren't we? Having a moment, and then having a fight. It gets really old after a while."

"We could stop fighting," Artemis suggested gently. _Only four words. A bad omen._ He tried to push the thought aside, but it hovered in the back of his mind.

"Or stop having moments." Yet another sigh. "I guess I just wanted to tell you that I'm not your 'fair lady,' or your 'princess,' and I don't need some kid trying to take care of me."

"I'm aware of that, Holly," Artemis said evenly.

"Good." Her voice was harsh, as she turned and walked away.

Artemis sighed. Not one of their most successful conversations. _Curse Orion_, he thought again. _Why does he keep _ruining _everything?_

It was a few hours later, as Artemis sat in his room pretending not to sulk, when he heard a heavy knock at the door. "Artemis?" asked a deep voice.

"Ah, Butler. Come in, please."

The bodyguard obeyed his instructions, ducking his head to fit through a frame not quite big enough for him. "I brought the package you sent me that note about," he said cryptically. "And… something about scissors?"

"Yes, it's for my hair." Artemis struggled to hide his embarrassment. "They won't let me have scissors, Mother says she likes it this way, and I'm not sure I trust anyone else to have sharp objects that close to my neck."

Butler raised an eyebrow, but didn't pass comment. He snipped off most of the length quickly, efficiently, and artlessly, leaving Artemis with a square, slightly Vulcanesque cut. The effect was emphasized by the quirked eyebrows it got from Artemis. "Not _too_ bad, I suppose," he remarked. "I wouldn't suggest you quit your day job, but at least now Mother will stop trying to play with it."

"Is that all then? Sorry to rush you, but they're pretty desperate for some hands."

"I don't mind at all. Go on; they need you." _And I don't want anyone studying this tape too carefully. _ Butler passed him a packet messily wrapped in brown paper, nodded, and exited, leaving Artemis to his own devices.

Turning his back carefully so as to block the cameras – only three? Who did they think he was? – Artemis tore away at a corner, revealing the tiniest strand of artificial blond hair.


	5. Retribution

**Retribution**

Artemis was staring into his mirror trying to look trustworthy and sincere. It was a harder task than it seemed. He had attempted a wide-eyed, innocent look, but it had made him look severely unhinged more than anything else.

Turning away from the mirror, he ran over his plans in his head yet again. Dr. Argon was the kind of fool who used the same password for everything and very rarely changed it, as his various forays into the psychiatrist's computer systems had taught him. And while the doctor was fairly security conscious at night, during the day he left the door to his office open, so as to spare himself the few seconds it would take to unlock it. The building schematics revealed there weren't even any security cameras in the room. It was practically begging to be broken in to.

He called up Dr. Argon's schedule for the day again. There was a two hour block of time where it was completely full, shortly after Artemis' own session. A perfect window of opportunity. The only difficulty would be changing without being caught on camera. Once in his disguise, he would certainly have enough freedom to wander the facility, if Orion was allowed to have fencing lessons.

For once, Dr. Argon seemed to be on target during the therapy session, as the supremely awkward topic of Holly Short came up. "How would you describe your relationship with Captain Short?" the psychiatrist asked carefully, a little nervous that the boy might explode.

Artemis paused, not wanting to give an answer, but unwilling to let Dr. Argon feel as though he'd won some sort of victory. "We are rather close friends that have often cooperated on a variety of life-or-death missions," he said at last, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is this more crude analysis? Will you question my feelings for Mulch or Foaly next? Or are you taking as your template for this theory the various movies featuring us?"

"I heard she visited you the other day, and the two of you had a fight."

"It was a small disagreement. She is uncomfortable with Orion's behaviour, and wanted to make sure it did not reflect my own feelings towards her."

"And that led the two of you to have a disagreement, then?" Dr. Argon looked as though he'd discovered a gold mine.

Artemis drummed his fingers crossly. This was not going as planned. "She was not completely convinced by the explanation I offered. There isn't anything more to say on the subject, really."

"And how do you plan on making up with her?"

"That remains to be seen." Artemis' expression suggested that he would not care to expand on the subject any further, and the topic eventually shifted onto a more easily mocked topic. _Perhaps I'll rifle through his files a little less neatly than I had planned to_, he thought, shifting nervously.

He was relieved to be let out, and ducked into a small niche on his way back to his quarters. It was barely fairy-sized, and Artemis was surprised how tight a fit it was. With a bit of a struggle, he pulled out his disguise – a blond wig in what was a decent approximation of his real body's haircut, a sheaf of papers containing part of an intentionally poorly-written sonnet, and a pen that he had retrieved when Dr. Argon dropped it at the end of a session.

Doing his best to look as though he wasn't hiding anything, he strode over to the doctor's office, knocking on the door (five times, for luck), and calling, "Dr. Argon, are you in? You mentioned you were interested in seeing what I'd written." There was, of course, no response, and Artemis waited what he assumed would be an appropriate amount of time before tentatively pushing the door open, and creeping in as though he was just checking to see if the doctor was there.

Once he was certain he was no longer visible, he rushed over to the locked file cabinet that dominated one wall of the room. He quickly entered Dr. Argon's password into the keypad, wondering vaguely what significance 122905 held. Fern, Fig, Forsythia… there it was. The label read in neatly typed Gnomish _Fowl, A._, with _& O._ scribbled afterwards in the psychiatrist's characteristically messy handwriting.

He pulled it out quickly, and began flipping through it, smiling wryly at the change in tone as it progressed, from excited, to irritated, to frustrated. Orion, he observed with a bit of envy, had made the transition much quicker than he had, but perhaps the doctor, on some level, appreciated his wit. But the style was not as important as the contents were, and the contents were not encouraging. Dr. Argon had charted a fast early recovery that led to eventual decline, which would not do at all. A few alterations, the smudging of a significant symbol or two, and a slightly different result emerged. It was a simple enough plan, and unless Dr. Argon's memory was the inverse of his handwriting, would escape detection for a long time. Feeling a little malicious, Artemis turned to the K drawer next, and pulled out the manuscript for a nearly finished book detailing the mental state of Opal Koboi. He roughly yanked out several pages, and shoved them behind the cabinet. Let Dr. Argon scramble for a while trying to find them; it would serve him right.

He left the office only ten minutes later, feeling practically cheerful. Unless there was some other incident that occurred today, it was unlikely anybody would even notice what had happened; the security had gotten dreadfully lax in the years without Opal. He seemed to be perfectly in the clear, until he ran into the last person he expected to see there – Holly Short.

Artemis tensed momentarily, not relishing the thought of what had to come next. To be fair, Holly did not look pleased either. He tried his best to look eager and cheerful. "Ah, Holly, my fair maiden. I have composed a sonnet in honour of my devotion. Would you like reading it?"

"Hey, Orion," she replied, already rubbing her temple. "I'm a little busy right now. D'you know where Artemis is?"

Artemis let his face fall artfully. "I suppose in his room. Are you sure you wouldn't rather talk to me?" He paused, and a look of worry crossed his face for a single second. "Milady?" he added, feeling better.

"Sorry, it's just… Artemis and I had a fight the other day, and I was going to… get him to apologize, or something. Probably start round two, actually." She sighed. "I don't really want to go into it."

This turn of events, while encouraging for their relationship, did not work as well for Artemis' current scheme. If Holly returned to the room while he wasn't in it, she would easily put two and two together, and that meant four, and that meant… He shook his head quickly, trying to dislodge that train of thought. "I'm sure he is sorry," he said, trying to sound as bright as possible. "He's just unable to express his true feelings, as he lacks delicacy of… feeling." Was that something Orion would say? Artemis' eyes flickered to his wrist, and then to the walls of the hallway. "I think that it's about time for my fencing lesson," he lied nervously, hoping Holly didn't know Orion's schedule.

"Go on, then," Holly said, sounding a little relieved. "I don't want to keep you from your 'quest in pursuit of chivalry'."

"Be well, my elvish princess," Artemis said, and dashed down a corridor that would let him circle back to his room. A narrow escape, it would seem.

Holly paused, watching as he turned a corner. There had been something _off_ about Orion's way of speaking. It was oddly halting, almost as if he'd been thinking about what to say next. She quickly began to tally up the number of words in the last couple sentences. Either the Atlantis Complex was getting to him, too, or it wasn't Orion.

"Foaly, I need the tracker location for Artemis," she told him, not taking any time for pleasantries

"What for?" the centaur replied through the crunch of a carrot. "Your boyfriend's still in the building; hasn't even left to use the toilet."

Holly ignored the jab, sticking to her point. "Yeah, but I just had a weird conversation with Orion – he didn't seem himself. So can I get the location?"

"Maybe he's just moved on. I heard he was chatting up Lili Frond at the shooting range the other day."

"Ha ha, very funny. That's not the problem. It sound almost like he was counting his words."

"So you're afraid your little hair-dye trick might have failed you? I thought you said it was foolproof, but I guess it's not Fowl-proof." Foaly chuckled heartily at his own pun. Holly did not.

"Stop fooling around, and just give me the damn location!"

"Alright, calm down. It says here," there were a swift tapping of keys, "that he's just outside his room."

"Great." She raced down the hallway, hoping she made it there before the evidence was gone.

Artemis made it back to his room with little incident, taking a few seconds lurking behind an open closet door to remove the wig. He was about to return to his room at last when he heard the tapping of LEP boots, and a very familiar voice saying, "Stop right there, Mud Boy! You'd better have a really good explanation for what you've been doing."

"D'arvit," said Artemis. It was really the only word that came to mind.


	6. Reconciliation

**Reconciliation**

It was not a successful scheme, he had to admit, but it had gone much better than he had hoped. Everyone had believed his claim that he only wanted to read what was in his file, out of a paranoid fear that it was full of lies, and Dr. Argon had been so relieved it was still there he hadn't noticed the changes. Holly, of course, was still not speaking to him, and he was confined to his room without a computer, but he could deal with both of those.

Maybe.

He was interrupted from his current task, drawing on the paper that was one of the few means of entertainment they would allow him, by a knock on the door, and quickly slid a blank page over his sketch. "Artemis? I think we need to talk?" Orion. Artemis groaned, but opened the door.

"What do you want now?" he asked coldly, glaring at the other boy.

"We need to talk," he repeated, sounding vaguely serious for once. "You're not getting any better, Artemis – you're getting worse. And why would you break into Dr. Argon's office?"

"I am not getting worse. I broke into Dr. Argon's office to read my file. Is your curiosity satisfied now?"

"I can count, too, you know," replied Orion. "That's a multiple of five for each sentence. You've gotten sneakier about it, though. Good job, I suppose."

Artemis looked away; meeting his own eyes was harder than one would think. "So what if I'm counting the number of my words? I sincerely doubt that you can offer me much assistance."

Orion entered the room, and sat on Artemis' bed, swinging his legs a bit. "I think," he said at last, "that I'm all the things you keep repressing or pushing away. Your athletic training, your sense of nobility, your chivalry. Your feelings for Holly."

"More psychobabble from Dr. Argon? I will admit your main point is an obvious one. But it is not helpful. You also consist of many traits I do not need. Such as your so-called chivalry. Holly is no swooning maiden; she does not need a knight to defend her honour. We both know this fact – surely, you remember all times when she saved my life?"

"That's not the point," Orion replied, sounding hurt. "The point is that I –"

"The point is that you are pursuing an outmoded code of conduct that is completely irrelevant to the current situation. It is in no way helping your case – in fact, it has done significant damage. Holly greatly dislikes your treatment of her, and to be honest, it is both disrespectful and extremely irritating for everyone."

"I just want to be a hero. You do, too. It's just, I don't know how to go about it, I guess. _If_ you're right."

"I believe the bruises you've been given speak for themselves," Artemis answered, trying to ignore the rest of the statement. Unrealistically idealistic as it was, there was an element of truth to it. Who, after all had inspired him to give up a life of crime? _It was not just Holly_, he thought fiercely, if somewhat petulantly. _The People as a whole influenced my change of heart._ He tried to escape the thought that when he thought of the fairy race, he thought of her first. She was the People to him, more than Mulch or Foaly or Root ever would be.

"You need to stop lying," Orion said self-righteously. "That's where all your troubles came from. That's where _I_ came from."

"And you certainly are one of my problems," Artemis said without missing a beat.

Orion smiled angelically. "See? Only eight words in that one. You can get better, I know you can." Artemis frowned at him. For a moron, he was surprisingly sharp. "You need me, though. Because I'm not afraid." He would have seemed almost mocking if he wasn't so earnest. "I can protect you from the darkness within."

If Orion wasn't going to be mocking, Artemis was. "That's perhaps the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Have ever heard." How many words was that? Did backtracking count? He looked down at his hand. He was drumming his fingers again. Probably not a good sign. He went over to his desk, and began straightening out the papers. They were a mess. How was he supposed to focus when they were so messy?

Orion walked up behind him, and pulled out the sketch of Holly he had been working on. "I think you need to stop lying to yourself, too," he remarked. "Isn't that how that works?"

"Perhaps, but honesty as radical as yours will more likely make problems than solve them.

Orion's face lit up (a disturbing site, in Artemis' opinion). "So you see what I mean, then! We need to work together, to combine our strengths!"

"If you say anything about the power of friendship, I might be ill."

"And that was thirteen. See what I mean? You do better when I'm around."

The fours in Orion's sentences made Artemis wince, but his point was surprisingly valid. Artemis hesitated to make any correlations in his current condition, but Orion did seem to make an excellent distraction, at the very least. And it seemed logical that the first step to curing his Atlantis Complex completely would be to address the latter stage of it. "Fine," he ceded at last, "there might be an advantage to co-operation. It's worth giving a shot, I suppose."

"Good," said Orion cheerily. "Now, give me your hand." Artemis took his hand rather tentatively, as though to shake it. "And you have to promise to stop lying to everyone. Including you," he added sternly.

"I promise."

"Good. Now you have to keep it, or else I'll have to come back." With that slightly ominous finish, he squeezed Artemis' hand.

Lights danced in front of Artemis' eyes, as if he'd been exposed to a sudden flash. A rush of new memories hit him – shouting "En guard!" enthusiastically as he fenced with a bemused sprite, practicing at the shooting range until he found he could hit the target eighty percent of the time, buying colour-changing flowers for Holly that got stuck on an unattractive puce and ended up hidden in his room. He also noticed a strange sensation, almost as if he was being pulled out of himself. "It appears the golem spell is collapsing," he remarked to nobody in particular, and once again passed out.

When he came to, he noticed No. 1 and Holly standing next to him. Holly, he noticed, was looking relieved. "I assume that I am back in my natural body?" he asked them.

"Yes, but what happened to you?" asked No. 1. "The spell should have lasted a few more days at least."

"When Orion and I rejoined, I believe a combination of the mental strain of processing his experiences and the fact that I was then both consciously controlling the golem and subconsciously controlling the golem, an exertion I had not previously needed to undergo, caused me to lose the necessary focus on the golem spell, and 'snap back,' as it were, to my body."

Holly and No. 1 were both silent for a second as they worked through this explanation. "Alright," said No. 1 at last. "I think that's straightened out, then. If you don't need me for anything in particular, I'll give you two _amoureux_ some space." He scampered out before either Holly or Artemis had a chance to respond.

Holly sighed, and looked at Artemis. "Sorry about that. I think he's been spending too much time with Mulch and Foaly."

"I would like to talk, though. If you don't mind."

"Do you actually want to talk, or just lie some more?"

Artemis winced, but he knew he deserved it. "Just talk. I promised Orion I wouldn't lie any more."

"And we all know how trustworthy the word of Artemis Fowl is," she said, but her heart wasn't in it.

Artemis tried to sound cheery. "He did promise to come back if I kept it up, and we both know I'd do anything to avoid that fate." He took a deep breath. "The truth is, Holly – I care for you. You are one of my dearest friends, and you have had a huge influence on my life. And from a completely objective standpoint, you are an extremely beautiful woman. I cannot quantify my opinions beyond that, but I am perfectly content to… to not pursue the matter any farther. Is that acceptable?"

"It works." Holly gave him a tentative smile, the first he had seen from her in a while. He was surprised how much of a difference it made. "You were right about one thing, Artemis."

"Yes?"

"We really should stop fighting."


	7. Epilogue: Reinstatement

**Epilogue – Reinstatement**

It had been a scant number of weeks after Artemis returned to Fowl Manor. He was, nominally, fully recovered; he had passed a series of interviews and psychological exams administered by Dr. Argon, including reciting the four times table. Artemis had sped through it, not stopping until Dr. Argon insisted he do so at "Four times four hundred forty-five is seventeen hundred eighty." But Butler suspected that his young charge was not quite completely himself. Maybe it was the careful way he would arrange things in his room, as though there was a purpose behind it. Maybe it was the fractal patterns of fives that he had worked into a recent painting. And maybe it was the fact that Artemis was making him drive to the spot where they had first met Holly without allowing him to breathe word of it to anybody.

"It's really quite a simple idea," Artemis was saying in the back seat, as Butler drove through the dark, nodding occasionally. "I've no idea why I didn't think of it sooner. It was No. 1 that inspired it, really. When the magical 'detox,' as Holly so charmingly described it, failed, we all thought it was simply psychological. But then it didn't work on Orion, either, who we've already demonstrated doesn't have many of the psychological hang-ups I do. And then No. 1 said, it would make sense if I was a fairy, because the purification ritual would risk damaging the parts of the brain that channelled their magic. Of course, he and Dr. Argon simply dismissed it on the principle that I'm notably _not_ a fairy, but it made me wonder…"

"We're here," said Butler abruptly, as he turned the van onto a rarely travelled back road, effectively silencing Artemis. The boy still hadn't ever explained what exactly he was doing, and Butler wasn't sure he ever would. The best he could do was make sure Artemis didn't get himself hurt.

Artemis swung out of the vehicle with surprising grace. At least there was one advantage to Orion's intrusions – thanks to muscle memory and some of the first dedicated exercise in his life, he had become a little less awkward at physical tasks. He shook a single finger at Butler imperiously, wordlessly instructing him to wait here. Butler sighed quietly. It seemed it was Artemis' dedicated goal to make his job as impossible as he could.

Artemis walked underneath the ancient oak, stooping momentarily to pick up a tiny object. He examined it carefully, and cast a careful look at the moon, round and orange as the coin that hung like a pendant around his neck. Then, he knelt and began to dig a small hole in the ground with the fingers of the other hand. He murmured a few words in Gnomish, and dropped the little acorn in the hole.

There was a flash of light that caused Butler to call the boy's name, a note of worry barely evident in his voice. Artemis spun around and looked at him, eyes alight with a strange, unsettling gleam. "Everything alright?" Butler asked tensely, frowning at him.

Artemis gave him his best vampire grin, an expression the bodyguard hadn't seen in years. "Yes, Butler, everything is well. Everything is very well indeed."


End file.
